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RAINBOW VERSE 

A Book of Helpful Sunny 
Philosophy 



W. DAYTON WEGEFARTH 




PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



^^^^ 






copyright, 1919, by 
George W. Jacobs & Company 



All rights reserved — Printed in U. S. A. 



NOV 12 1911 



©CI.A535835 



r^A.^ I 



Dedicated to 
Edward F. Albee 



I BELIEVE in the philos- 
ophy of friendship. If 
my verses bring sunshine into 
the hves of those who may 
feel the need of its warmth 
and point the road that leads 
to success to those who are 
aimlessly wandering, I am cer- 
tain that my own life will be 
sunnier and my road easier. I 
want my verses to please, but 
more than that, I want them 
to help. 

W. D. W, 



Friend o' Mine: 

I should like to send you a sunbeam, 
or the twinkle of some bright star, or a 
tiny piece of the downy fleece that clings 
to a cloud afar. I should like to send you 
the essence of a myriad sun-kissed flowers, 
or the lilting song, as it floats along, of a 
brook through fairy bowers. I should like 
to send you the dew-drops that glisten at 
break of day, and then at night the eerie 
light that mantles the Milky Way. I 
should like to send you the power that 
nothing can overthrow — the power to smile 
and laugh the while a-journeying through 
life you go. But these are mere fanciful 
wishes; I'll send you a Godspeed instead, 
and I '11 clasp your hand — then you'll under- 
stand all the things I have left unsaid. 



BUM 

He's a little dog, with a stubby tail, and a 

moth-eaten coat of tan; 
His legs are short, of the wabbly sort: I 

doubt if they ever ran; 
He howls at night, while in broad daylight 

he sleeps like a bloomin' log, 
And he likes the feed of the gutter breed: 

he's a most irregular dog. 

I call him Bum, and in total sum he's all 

that his name implies. 
For he's just a tramp with a highway stamp 

that culture cannot disguise; 
And his friends, I've found, in the streets 

abound, be they urchins, dogs or men : 
Yet he sticks to me with a fiendish glee — 

it's truly beyond my ken. 

I talk to him when I'm lonesome-like, and 
I'm sure that he understands 

When he looks at me attentively and gently 
licks my hands. 

Then he rubs his nose on my tailored 
clothes, but I never say aught thereat, 

9 



For the good Lord knows I can buy more 
clothes, but never a friend like that! 

So my good old pal, my irregular dog, my 

flea-bitten, stub-tailed friend, 
Has become a part of my very heart, to be 

cherished till lifetime's end. 
And on Judgment-day, if I take the way 

that leads where the righteous meet. 
If my dog is barred by the heavenly guard — 

we'll both of us brave the heat! 



THE REASON 

Some folks '11 al'ays git along, 

An' somehow others won't, — 
But them that does works with a song, 

An' them that doesn't, don't. 



10 



BETSY 

She isn't a car with a pedigree, and she's 

old, very old, indeed, 
Her lines are low and her speed is slow, a 

sort of a "has-been" steed; 
I've had her repainted, renickeled, too, but 

she still looks about the same. 
She runs at times, and her springs are 

chimes, and Betsy's her Christian 

name. 

She sputters and sulks, she kicks and bucks, 
and she has a consumptive cough, 

She often backs on the street-car tracks and 
the cop has to push her off; 

She goes like the wind on a long down- 
grade and coasts like a gull at sea: 

We're Jack and Jill and we love our hill, 
but down it must always be. 

So I search for the roads that are smooth and 
straight and I skirt all the hills and 
dales, 

I never roam very far from home, for some- 
how my courage fails; 

11 



I live in the clouds when I journey forth, 
tho the clouds are another's dust, 

But I grip my wheel with a Spartan zeal, 
and say: "In the Lord I trust!'* 

And often, how often, they've towed me 
home at the cost of a five or ten, 

I'd dream of the day of the one-horse shay, 
and wish I'd been living then; 

And oh! the abuse that I've had to bear, 
when we'd block up a road or pass. 

They'd howl and groan: "Get the ether- 
cone!" But / knew she wanted gas. 

And yet, with it all, she's a good old friend, 

tho I know that the day is near, 
When death will steal into each slow wheel 

and into the running-gear; 
But this do I swear : she shall rust in peace, 

with no eyes but mine to see; 
Fve suffered much from her friction-clutch, 

— but she's been a loyal bus to me. 



12 



COMMENCEMENT DAY 

** Where are you going, my pretty maid?** 
"I'm going to conquer the world," she said. 
"IVe three mighty weapons on which to 

rely: 
"My smile, my diploma, my mischievous 

eye; 
"Now, shouldn't I have the whole world 

at my feet?" 
The world answers: "Yes, for they're 

wonderf'ly neat." 

Diplomas are lost or forgotten, you know, 
As time presses on, but a smile — never so! 
Nor a mischievous eye — these are weapons, 

in truth. 
That will conquer all hearts, and the world 

too, forsooth. 



THE WAY IT'S DONE. 

"Mother, may I get in the swim?" 

"Yes, my darling daughter; 
Buy your clothes from a Frenchy store, 

And don't wear half y' oughter. " 



13 



WHEN LOVE COMES ALONG 

Isn't it funny how love comes along, 
With the plaint of the wind, or the lilt of 

a song, 
With the scent of the flowers that bloom 

by the way. 
With the stars of the night, or the sun of 

the day? 
By the touch of its breath all our shadows 

are gone: 
Isn't it funny how love comes along? 

It comes without bidding, we know not 

from where. 
And hope takes the place of a longing 

despair; 
It comes with the dawning, it comes with 

the night. 
But come when it will there is joy in its 

light. 

Isn't it funny how love comes along? 
Though our clouds may be dark, it will bid 

them begone; 
And its advent is marked by no herald or 

boast, 

14 



But it finds us, 'twould sieem, when we need 

it the most: 
Oh, the wonderful peace in the joy of its 

song! 
Isn't it funny how love comes along? 



LIFE'S BOOMERANG 

Do something good each passing day. 
For those whom you meet on Life's High- 
way; 
Cheer on the traveller at your side, 
Be his adviser, comrade, guide. 

Perhaps there will come a time, good friend. 
As over the path of life you wend. 
That just such a friend as you have been 
Will give you encouragement to win. 



15 



TO THE CONVALESCENT 

It's a shame to be ill and confined to your 

bed, 
To be medicine-filled, hygienic'ly fed; 
To be pampered and petted from morning 

to night. 
Till you're ready to scream — for you're too 

weak to fight; 
To be told what a wonderful patient you've 

been 
When you know it's a fib. I repeat, it's 

a sin! 

But we've all had our plasters, we've all 

had our pills; 
We've all had our troubles, we've all had 

our ills. 
They make up a lifetime, old friend, sad 

to tell; 
But since it's the truth — hustle up and get 

well! 



16 



A PRAYER 

No day so quickly passes 

That I don't think some of you, 
It may be once, or often, 

But each thought of you rings true; 
And oft I pray in silence. 

Asking God to keep you free 
From all life's ills and sorrows — 

And to let you think of me. 



ENCOURAGEMENT 

There's a heap o' satisfaction in the clasp 
of some friend's hand. 
There's a world of helpfulness in just a 
word. 
But you'll find that absent-treatment isn't 
vital, — understand ? 
For encouragement must both be felt 
and heard. 



17 



THE SUN-CRESTED HILL 

Oh, it's great to be able to go where you will. 

Wherever your heart decrees, 
To sense all the joy of the wanderlust thrill. 

To go when and where you please. 

For the world is so small and our days are 
so few, 

And praise such a shallow thing. 
That life isn't worth all the crying and hue. 

The sorrow desire may bring. 

Strike out for the open, the unfettered way, 
Strike off all your men-made chains, 

And search for the peace that will never 
decay. 
Forgetful of worldly gain. 

For the pain and the sorrow, the anguish 
we've known. 
The heart-breaks and tears we've shed. 
Are fruits of the seeds we have greedily 
sown. 
The toll of the lives we've led. 



18 



So go on your way with a laugh and a song. 
And sail on contentment's sea; 

Live just for today, as you journey along: 
Tomorrow may never be. 

Oh, it's great to be able to go where you will. 

Wherever your heart decrees; 
But go, while you can, to the sun-crested 
hill. 

Where happiness warms the breeze. 



A BIT O' HEAVEN 

A little bit of sunshine 

And the mellow of the moon. 
Then the silver dust of starshine. 

With the perfumed breath of June, 
And the glisten of the skyways 

Through their endless lanes of blue : 
That's my wish for thee and thy days. 

And I'm praying 'twill come true. 



19 



THE U. S. MARINES 

You'll find Marines where'er you go, 

In ev'ry old place on earth, 
'Neath torrid sun, in fields of snow, 

Protecting our home and hearth. 

They are here and there, they are ev'ry- 
where, 
This glorious, great machine; 
They tackle the jobs that depend on pluck, 
And they finish 'em too, with their usual 
luck. 
The lads o' the U. S. Marine. 

On foreign shore, in Yankeeland, 

Wherever a ship has sailed. 
They do their bit, and lend a hand. 

When some other chap has failed. 

Oh, you'll find 'em all, when the bugles 
call, 
The first on the battle-green. 
And the last to leave, when the fight is 

o'er. 
For they'll stick and they'll beg for a little 
more. 
The lads o' the U. S. Marine. 

20 



The world to them is Home, Sweet Home, 

On land or the far-flung sea. 
Their roof is heaven's star-lit dome. 

The breeze is their symphony. 

And they fight their fight with a heart that's 
light. 
With ever a jolly mein. 
And it's woe to the fools who would bar 

their way. 
For there's nothing on earth that can stem 
their sway. 
The lads o' the U. S. Marine. 

So here's that Luck may keep apace, 
Wherever their feet may tread, 

And here's that Fortune's smiling grace 
May follow where'er they're led. 

For it's great to know that the wondrous 
glow 
That radiates Freedom's sheen, 
Will be ever as bright as their hearts are true. 
For they'll fight to the last for the Red, 
White and Blue, 
The lads o' the U. S. Marine. 

Dedicated to the United States Marine Corps. 

£1 



OLDEN MELODIES 

It's strange that the songs that we hear 

today, 
In the vaudeville show and the cabaret, 
Are never as sweet as the songs of old 
That mother had sung when our hair was 

gold. 
There were "Sweet Annie Laurie" and 

"Old Black Joe," 
"Love's Old Sweet Song," "Sweet Winds 

That Blow," 
"Way down in Dixie" and "Auld Lang 

Syne," 
"The Old Folks At Home" and ** Sweet 

Adeline." 

And "Lead Kindly Light," — I can see her 

now, 
With her silvered hair and her wrinkled 

brow, 
With her dear old hand on my curly head. 
As she tucked me so gently away to bed; 
I can feel her breath and her loving kiss. 
So earnest and free from all artifice: 
And I've learned, ah, yes, I have learned 

since then 

22 



Why the songs of youth are the strength of 
men. 

For in ev'ry word, in each Hngering tone. 
Rings the sound of an old sweet voice 

we've known, 
And we see in each song of the long ago 
A hallowed face in the firelight glow, 
A face we have drawn on mem'ry's page, 
And framed with the blooms of love's 

foliage : 
A song of to-day is just — a song, 
The others, — mem'ries of loved ones gone. 



JUST A MINUTE, PLEASE 

Before you send your letter, read it over. 
And hold your speech until your wrath 
has fled. 
For 'tis better far to wait, 
Tho your answer may be late^ 
Than say the things you should have 
left unsaid. 



23 



WORK AND PLAY 

Work while you work, with all your heart, 

Work with a right good will. 
Analyze ev'ry task in part. 

Sense ev*ry effort's thrill. 

Play while you play, with all your soul, 

Play to the lilt of song. 
Play as you work, and lo ! your goal 

Will come to be real ere long. 



RAIN 

I love the melody of rain. 
With cooling, whispered, soft refrain; 
For while it falls I seem to see 
The world a garden-plot; and we 
Are flowers, each a different bloom. 
In sun-kissed patch or shadow-gloom; 
While angels stand on silvered blue 
And sprinkle us with heaven's dew : 
That's why I love the song of rain, 
With cooling, whispered, soft refrain. 



£4 



MY STAR 

One summer night, while I wandered alone, 
Near the bank of a gliding stream, 

I caught a star, as it slid to the earth 
On the shaft of a late sunbeam. 

With tender care then I carried it off, 
O'er my life's rocky winding road; 

And marveled much at its wondrous light. 
As it lifted my sorrow's load. 

My days grew brighter, my nights were less 
drear. 

All the world seemed enriched by love; 
The trials of life that had burdened my soul 

Were all lost in the clouds above. 

The years rolled by, and I lived in content. 
For my heart greater joy ne'er sought; 

The star that brightened my life was naught 
else 
But a simple, unselfish thought. 



25 



LEARN TO SMILE BY THE WAY 

A man with a frown and a man with a smile 
Once met on Life's Road at the old turning 

stile. 
"You seem unconcerned," said the first with 

a sneer, 
"For a man who has treacherous pitfalls 

to fear. 
IVe worried along till I'm worn and grey." 
And the other said, "You should have 

smiled by the way." 

"I've had many troubles, my heart has 

been bled; 
The joys that were mine are now withered 

and dead. 
I'm treading this path not from fancy, my 

friend, 
But because not far off is the long-wished- 

for end. 
I've seen aught but darkness, no dawning 

of day." 
And the other said, "You should have 

smiled by the way." 



26 



"**! know what it means," said the man with 

the smile, 
"To have my heart wrung every cruel, 

weary mile. 
My life has meant suffering, my way has 

been long. 
But still I have not grown deaf to Hope's 

song. 
And every drear winter to me has been 

May, 
Because I have learned to smile by the 

way." 



IF 



If you meet the world with a heart that's 
Hght, 

If you work with a laugh and song, 
If you tread the path where the sun is bright, 

You will win, though the path be long. 



87 



UNCLE 

I've got th' finest uncle 

That anyone ever had, 
He's jus' 's nice 's he kin be, 

Ain't never cross Hke dad. 

I told m' mother tother day 

She made a big mistake 
In marryin' dad instead o' him — 

Well — we nearly had a wake ! 

Ma grabbed me by th' collar, 
An' laid me crost her knee. 

Took her slipper, heel an' all, 
Then how she walloped me ! 

"T' talk about yer pa like that, 
Y' most on-grateful child." 

With ev'ry word th' slipper fell: 
Ma's temper isn't mild. 

"I'll teach y' t' respect yer pa, 
Or know th' reason why." 

I squirmed an' yelled, "If I tell Unk, 
He'll punch 'im in th' eye!" 

An' then who comes a-strollin' in 
But Uncle. " Well," says he, 

28 



"I hear as 'ow a pal o' mine 
Is needin' help from me." 

An' then, o' course, ma has t' stop 

A-lammin' me, an' Unk 
He lifts me up an' sees me smile, 

An' says, **Well, you've got spunk!" 

He asked ma what I went an' did. 
But ma jus' squirmed around; 

She didn't dare t' tell th' truth. 
For gosh! how that would sound. 

So Unk an' I slipped t' th' shed, 

An' there I told 'im all; 
He scratched his head an' coughed a lot. 

An' answered with a drawl : 

* 'I wouldn't be too hard on pa 

If I were you, m' lad. 
Cause family scraps, t' say th' least, 

Are werry, werry bad." 



But you ain't skeered o' dad," I cried. 

"O' course I'm not," said he. 
But I owe dad a favor. 

Cause he did one once for me." 
29 



An' then he laughed, an' laughed, an*^ 
laughed, 

An' hugged me for a spell; 
I asked 'im what th' favor was. 

An' promised not t' tell. 

At last he whispered in my ear: 

"He saved my life, m' lad. 
He won your ma instead o' m^/" 

We both said: "Poor— old— dad!" 

THE YEAR OF YEARS 

Start the year with a word of cheer, 

Start the year with a smile; 
Laughter chases the shadows drear. 

Laughter the days beguile. 

Tread the path where the sun is high. 

Walk where the flowers grow; 
Place your hopes in a star-lit sky. 

Up where the planets glow. 

Search for joy in the shadow-days, 

Smile till the tear-mist clears; 
Friend o'mine, in a million ways. 

Make it the year of years ! 



LIFERS ROOM 

I've a little room where I live alone. 

And the walls of the room are bare: 
A peaceful nook of a sombre tone. 

For nobody enters there, 
Lest it be the Ghosts of my Yesterday, 

Or the Dreams of my days unborn, 
Or the Shades that people my quiet way 

Of mem'ries I love and mourn. 

And I watch the world, as it passes by. 

Through the window that lights my soul: 
Its ceaseless tread, like a mighty sigh. 

Goes up to the heavens* bowl; 
I close my eyes to its gilded shrine 

And shrink from its drone and moan. 
And I thank my God for the peace that's 
mine. 

In the room where I dwell alone. 

HAPPINESS 

Happiness is yours to take. 
Happiness is yours to make. 
So seek it ever, keep it, too : 
*Twill chase away life's sombre hue. 



31 



IT'S A GOOD OLD WORLD 

This criticized world is a pretty good place, 
If you take all your woes with the right 

kind of grace, 
And learn to find good in your sorrow and 

pain, 
And to watch for the sunshine that follows 

the rain. 

I know that the world has a mighty blue 

tinge 
Oftentimes; but, my friend, if you just oil 

the hinge. 
Your door will swing open and let in the 

light 
That will put all your little blue devils to 

flight. 

In all, life is just what we make it, you know. 
And we reap smiles or sighs from the seeds 

that we sow; 
Then the right thing to do is to plant seeds 

of joy. 
And to smile at the heart-breaks that try 

to destroy. 



32 



POSITIVE— NEGATIVE 

The world hasn't time for the gelatine- 
spined, 

For the timid, the weak, or the negative 
kind; 

It looks to the man with the positive force. 

With the courage that comes from a posi- 
tive source. 

So think then and act in a positive way. 
And you'll learn that the things that had 

brought you dismay 
Will leave, as all negative bugaboos do. 
When they meet with the strength that is 

latent in you. 

BABY 

Two starry eyes look into mine. 

As though to read my soul. 
Two cupid lips part with a smile 

That makes a torn life whole; 
Two chubby hands caress my cheek. 

Its furrows disappear. 
Two little arms entwine my neck. 

And Paradise is here. 



33 



TH' GOIN'S HARD 

Th' goin's hard when you're down an' out. 

With never a helpin' hand 
T' grasp your own, as you grope about, 

With no one t' understand; 
Th' road is hard an' th' road is long. 

You hunger for just th' glow 
Of a friendly face or a cheery song, — 

Th' goin' is hard, I know. 

But there's somethin' down in th' depth 
o' you, 

Somethin' that burns an' sears, 
Somethin' that sort o' helps you thru, 

Somethin' that stops your tears; 
It points th' way thru th' heavy night. 

An' it whispers in accents low: 
"You'll win — you must — if your heart is 
light, 

But th' goin' is hard, I know." 

Then you set your jaw an' you clench your 
fist. 
An' you breathe with your head held 
high, 

34 



While you search around for th* chance 
you missed, 
T' give it another try; 
An' you put your shoulder against th' 
wheel, 
Your life in your sluggin' blow, 
An' you smash your way with a will o' steel, 
Oh, the goin' is hard, I know. 

At last you come t' th' open road, 

Th' day that was lost is won; 
Peace deserved is your heart's abode. 

Its light is th' dawning sun; 
You won your fight by yourself you think. 

Poor fool! 'Twill be ever so. 
'Twas God who turned you from Failure's 
brink. 

When th' goin' was hard, you know. 

JUST DAD 

That's what I always want you to be, 
Without any frills, just Dad to me: 
A sort of a pal, and the best of friends. 
Someone to point where the roadway wends; 
Someone to smile when my heart is sads. 
The kind of a friend I need, just Dad. 

35 



EVERYONE DOES IT 

I used to live in a great big house of seven- 
teen rooms, or more. 

With gorgeous frescoes on ev*ry wall, and 
an obstinate oak front door. 

With halls as spacious as mountain caves, 
and alcoves of fearful size. 

With saintly figures on ev'ry pane, and 
pictures that scandalize. 

The tapestries were of lustrous sheen and 

hung in a wealth around. 
The rugs and carpets were soft and rich 

and covered a hardwood ground. 
The furniture was of massive style, the 

stairways were steep and long. 
The house was truly a kingly place, but 

somehow it seemed all wrong. 

It seemed so cold and it seemed so drear, 

there wasn't the warmth of home, 
I felt as tho I were swallowed up, I hated 

its ghostly gloam. 
My voice would echo thru ev'ry room, 

like spirits of other days, 
I feared to traverse the corridors, bereft 

of the sunlight's rays. 
36 



At last we followed the social bent, we 

took an apartment, yes 
We left the house with the yawning porch, 

the house that was conscienceless; 
We took the things that we needed most, 

the things that would fit, you know. 
The bric-a-brac and the spindle-chairs, and 

pieces to make a "show.'* 

And now we've learned how to laugh and 

live, we didn't know how before. 
We've learned to cook in a kitchenette, to 

smile at our neighbor's snore, 
We've learned that life is a stave of song, 

and strange as it all may seem, 
We've learned to love in a different way, — 

and to steal our neighbor s cream! 



THE NICHE 

There's a place for you in the world, my lad, 
There's a niche you are destined to fill, 

But you must be brave and you must be 
glad, 
And the soil of your life you must till. 



37 



THE NE'ER-DO-WELL 

Bill was the clerk in the general store, 

merely a clerk and nothing more, 
The only friends that he had in town were 

the ne'er-do-wells and his rabbit-houn'. 
For Bill was a ne'er-do-well himself, with 

nary a thought of worldly pelf. 
And nobody cared if he lived or died — and 

perhaps that's the reason he never tried. 

The villagers used to vow that Bill would 

some day burgle the grocery till, 
And they wisely ventured the solemn hoi>e 

that he'd pass away at the end of a rope; 
They'd lay their children across their knee 

whenever they sought his company, 
So the town oft rang with their youthful 

wails, for the kids loved Bill and his 

bandit tales. 

But Bill never sinned, the record shows, he 

just liked to loaf, which only goes 
To prove that Bill wasn't truly bad, for 

loafing is really a social fad; 
So he lived his life as he wanted to, though 

the townsfolk flayed him black-and-blue. 
And at every sneer he'd smile and say: 

"Wal, I ain't no hypocrite, any^way.'* 
38 



And then the day of the Great War came, 

and they called for men to play the 

game, 
A squad of regulars, bronze of face, set up 

a tent in the market-place, 
And they asked for men to volunteer, they 

warned the Draft was drawing near, 
But the stolid workers who tilled the land 

seemed, somehow, not to understand. 

They wanted someone to lead the way, 

someone to step right up and say: 
"Who is the next to follow me across the 

sea to victory?'* 
Of course, you've guessed 'twas Bill who 

came and made his mark beside his 

name; 
He said no word as he walked away, — but 

a lot more signed the roll that day. 

Then they left for camp, these volunteers, 

amid a storm of sobs and cheers. 
But not a soul in the little town, not a 

living thing, save a rabbit-houn', 
Had come to the station to say farewell, or to 

wish good-luck to the ne'er-do-well: 
A whine was the only sob he heard, tho 

to him 'twas more than a spoken word. 

39 



And soon they'd quite forgotten him, when 

passing months left memories dim, 
Until one day his name they read among the 

missing and the dead; 
The message told how he had faced a hail 

of lead, and how he'd raced 
Across the gory, cratered lands to tear our 

flag from Hunnish hands. 

How thru the smoke where waiting Death 

crouched, panther-like, with fevered 

breath 
To sear each life that passed its way, he 

fought, a Devil-dog at bay, 
He hewed, he smashed, he killed, and then 

he brought the flag back home again. 
The ne'er-do-well had played the game; the 

village bowed its head in shame. 

And now of Bill they spoke with pride 
throughout the peaceful countryside, 

They said he'd never been real bad, not 
Bill, no, no, not really bad! 

But just a lad who liked to play, to while 
the weary hours away. 

And thus in life we all await the rose with- 
held that blooms too late. 

40 



But soon from out the battle fray another 

message winged its way, 
Congratulating all the town, for Bill had 

lived to bring renown 
Where none had ever been before; and then 

a mighty, joyous roar 
Was sent across each rolling hill, across the 

seas, across to Bill! 

At last he came, their native son, to claim 
the heritage he'd won; 

The Stars-and-Stripes were everywhere, tri- 
umphant rang the trumpet's blare. 

But was it Bill, or just his ghost, this wasted 
form that faced the host. 

Whose blood-shot eyes roamed all around, 
whose lips framed : '* Where's m' rabbit- 
houn'?" 

But ev'ry history must end, so ere our 

separate paths we wend. 
We'll look on Bill in health and ease, a 

shaggy head upon his knees; 
We find them where they were before, 

except it's now Bill's general store. 
Presented by the town itself, and Bill's 

own till is on the shelf. 
41 



VAULTING SUNBEAMS 

(Nestor to the Greek generals: "The secret 
of victory is in getting a good ready.**) 

He carried a book every place that he went, 

And he bracketed thoughts that he read: 
The people would smile at the studious chap, 

And we think that we know what they 
said; 
They called him eccentric, and possibly 
worse, — 

It*s a trait of the masses, you know. 
To jeer at the fellow ambitious to climb 

Where they haven't courage to go. 

He studied the things that he thought he 
would need 
When his big opportunity came, 
The things that develop and make for suc- 
cess, 
That help men to win at life's game; 
He seemed not to notice the smiles of the 
crowds. 
But clung to his books with a vim, 
Yes, he clung to his books, to his dreams, 
to his hopes, 
Though the world went on smiling at him. 

42 



At last, when Discouragement stalked at 
his side. 
Quite apparently certain to win. 
When Failure cavorted grotesquely about, 
With the mockery of Fate's harlequin. 
When effort seemed wasted and faith had 
grown cold. 
When his dreams lost their bright, cheer- 
ful hue. 
He heard Opportunity knock at his door. 
And a voice said: *'I've come, lad, for 

you.'' 

"I'm ready!" he cried, with resolve in his 
heart, 
"I'm ready to take to the road.'* 
"That's why I am here," Opportunity said. 

Then off to the hill-top he rode. 
And those who had scoffed at him watched 
from afar. 
As he vaulted each sunbeam and cloud. 
And most of them wished that he'd tumble 
to earth, — 
But he just couldn't follow the crowd! 



43 



ME AN' JIM 

Sometime I git in a thoughtful mood, 
When m' pipe's 'bout right, an' I sit 'n 

brood 
'Bout why things is an' why things ain't — 
(But o' course not meanin' no complaint) 
Jest a confidential revery. 
With no one 'round t' disagree. 

Y 'd be surprised if y ' really knew 

What a heap o' comfort an' pleasure, too, 

I git with Jimmy — Jim's m' dog — 

'Fore a laughin', cracklin', blazin' log. 

With th' wind a-howlin' dismal out. 

An' not a livin' soul about. 

'Cause Jim believes everything I say — 
Never does no questionin' 'bout date or 

day; 
An' that's a thing I like, y' know: 
If I fib a bit — he lets it go. 
Though a argyment on facts alone 
Is most like chops — with jest th' bone. 

An' po'try — laws! Why it comes t' me 
By th' foot an' yard jest as natchely; 

44 



There ain't no rhyme, or like o* that, 
An* I guess it might read kind o' flat; 
But it seems t' come from th' heart o' me — 
A sort o* home-made symphony. 

An' I travels then t' th' days gone by. 
When m' back was straight an' m' step 

was spry; 
An' through th' smoke I see a face 
That all life's sunshine can't replace; 
An' I try t' smile, but sigh instead 
For th' joy that came, th' joy that fled. 

An' then I strive for t' hum a song. 
With old Jim's tail beatin' time all wrong: 
A song I used t' hear her sing. 
When th' days t' us were al'ays spring; 
But m' throat gits choaked an' m' eyes 

grow dim. 
An' I says: "Tain't much use tryin', Jim." 

An' Jim — he knows — ^for he comes t' me 
An' licks m' hands so consolingly; 
I jest don't trust m'self t' speak, 
'Cause I'm feelin' kind o' sad and meek. 
With th' fire burnin' mighty low 
An' a-throwin' out a cheerless glow. 

45 



But I stirs it up with a log or two, 

For I jest can't stand gettin' drear and 

blue; 
M' pipe's most out, so I lights it up, 
Then I take a teeny-weeny sup; 
An' I says: "Things might be worser, Jim, 
So let's keep right on trustin' Him." 



"FISHIN"' 

"Let's go a-fishin', Mary." 

"Begorry, an' let's" sez she. 
An' thin wid our rods, an' our lines an' 

things. 
We go to th' wood where th' brooklet sings, 

As happy as we kin be. 

"Fishin' is foine," sez Mary, 

"Indade, an' it's great," sez Oi. 
An' divil a fish'U we ketch all day, 
A fishermon's luck, but a lover's pay, — 
Kissin' is better, thinks Oi. 



46 



GO T' SLEEP, HONEY 

Hush, a-baby, close yo' eyes, 

An' go right off t' sleep; 
Great, big goblin comin' sure 

T ' ketch yo' ef yo' peep. 

'Taint no use t' make a fuss — 

Yo' better snuggle tight; 
'Spect I'se gwain t' play wif yo ' 

All day an' half de night? 

Ebenin's growin' mighty late, 

De birds am gone t' nest; 
Eb'ry thing wif eyes t' close 

Hab shut 'em tight in rest. 

Mammy's gettin' tired, too, 
Jes' 'cause de moon's so bright; 

Gwain t' go t' bed ma self, — 

Good-night, dear chile, good-night. 



47 



DREAMS 

There is something fine in the world for you, 
Something that you are meant to do. 
Something the future holds in store 
Only for you on Tomorrow's shore. 

Something you crave in the dreams you 

dream, 
Something that glows in the twilight's 

gleam, 
Never forgotten, ever bright, 
Bright with the hope of a dawning light. 

Then when the night clouds have rolled 

away. 
Sunbeams will radiantly clothe your day. 
Showing the path that is yours to tread. 
Lighting the way where your dreams have 

led. 

Then will you learn that the dream-god 

knew 
All of the work that is yours to do. 
Knew very well that since life began 
Dreams are the things that mould the man. 

48 



THE STRENGTH OF YOUTH 

I heard a voice. 

In vibrant, ringing tone it bid me wait. 
I named my choice. 

Impetuous youth cried out 'twould be too 
late. 

And so I tried. 

Spurred on by hope I faced my future's sun. 

The voice had lied. 

I struck with my unerring youth and won. 

MOODS 

Be careful of moods; they are dang'rous 

things, 
Especially the profligate mood that brings 
A deep discontent with the work you do. 
That vitiates all that is fine in you. 

Encourage the mood with the plenitude 
Of vision to see but the rainbow-hued; 
Absorb all the good that the world can 

give. 
And soon you will find joy intuitive. 



49 



THE GLORY OF FAILURE 

If each loved heart were lost to me on earth. 
And every cherished dream in ashes lay, 
If every hope that I had deemed of worth 
Had passed into the night from sanguine 
day; 
If everything that I hold dear — my friends. 
My inmost loves, my fondest joys, had 
died, 
I*d thank my God, who every judgment 
sends. 
For e'en my failures — knowing I had 
tried. 



A THUNK 

Very often, when you think a thought, you 
haven't thunk a thing. 
So you think the thought you thought you 
thunk anew; 
Now, the thought I think I thought I thunk 
has such a friendly ring. 
That I think I'll send the thought I thunk 

to you : 
" Good luck, good cheer and a never- 
fading smile." 

50 



PERSUASION 

Hey there, fellers, come on in, 

Water's fine, y'bet; 
Gee! I wouldn't be a coward, 

Traid o' gettin' wet. 

Aw, gowan, I ain't a-shiverin, 

Betcher life I'm not; 
Watch me duck, here goes, ca-splash! 

Oof! It's a-1-m-o-s-t h-o-t. 

Go and look for Deacon Brown, 
An' tell him where I've been; 

Let 'im holler, I don't care, 
Swimmin' ain't no sin. 

Aw, come on, kids, what's the oddsj 

Folks won't know t'hum: 
That's the ticket, wade in slow, 

Gee! I know'd y'd come. 



51 



THE BRIGHT THINGS OF LIFE 

A thought that is winged from a friend 
to a friend, 
Doesn't seem such a wonderful thing; 
Yet it carries the prayer for a joy without 
end. 
And it throbs with a big, friendly ring. 

A mere word of cheer, in the shadow of 
night, 
When discouragement darkens the way. 
Will illumine our hearts with the glorious 
light 
Of a hopeful and sun-brightened day. 

When failure confronts us and' darkens our 

goals, 

How we long for the clasp of a hand! 

It is then that we cry from the depths of 

our souls, 

For a friend who can just understand. 

A bright, cheery smile often gives us the 
strength 
That we lack in the vortex of strife, 



52 



For it lightens our load, as we travel the 
length 
Of the care-laden path we call Life. 

So we find, after all, that the things we 
thought small. 
Loom colossal above all the host; 
That the best of God's gifts are the friends 
we can call 
To our side when we need them the most. 



HOW TO LIVE 

Give me your hand when I need it most, 
Give me your smile when I'm sad, 

Speak but a word to my idle boast. 
Teach me to live and be glad. 

Teach me to follow the righteous way, 
Show me life's worthiest plan. 

Teach me to live it day by day. 
Help me to be a man! 



53 



THE TAIL OF A DOG 

A little dog's tail is a wonderful thing. 

For it wags all the livelong day: 
And whether the dog be a hybrid or king. 

The tail is a tail alway; 
Its shape and its size never matter at all. 

It's the wag that is worth the while, 
For its tempo allegro is constant withal. 

And that is our doggie's smile. 

It welcomes us home, it bids us good-by. 

And we know it will never fail; 
We'd miss it as much as the blue of the sky. 

This wag of our doggie's tail: 
For in each joyous sway is the beat of his 
heart, 

Full of love that is free from guile. 
And the wealth of the world wouldn't move 
us to part 

With the wag that is doggie's smile. 



54 



YOUR WORTH 

The world takes a man at his own valua- 
tion, 

No matter how high it may be. 
But it asks that the proof of the verification 

Be shown in his own industry. 

The best gifts of life are the crown of the 
worker. 
And toil is the seed he must sow, 
While failure and anguish will follow the 
shirker. 
So plant fertile deeds as you go. 

TRY 

It matters not what your work may be. 

If only you do it well. 
If only you do it joyously. 

If only you feel its spell. 

It matters not if you win your quest. 

Or fail in your bold attempt; 
If only you Tried to do your best. 

Your conscience will be "exempt." 

55 



MAN'S CREED 

Turn your face to the Eastward, and look 

to the rising sun. 
The sorrows that seared the bygone years 

are victories you have won. 

Fight in the sunHt open, for Truth will 

defeat Despair. 
Success is the tribute fairly won by those 

who will do and dare. 

Tomorrow is yours to cope with. Think 

not of yesterday, 
But place your hopes high upon the rocks, 

and cast your fears away. 

Life is yours to be moulded, so do with it 

as you should. 
And if God wills you should win, or lose, 

you have done the best you could. 



56 



THE BIRTH OF OLD GLORY 

'Twas God Who took from heaven's dome 
The stars that were twinkhng there. 

And the gUst'ning hght of the fleecy white 
Enfolding the cloud-banks fair; 

He took from the roses their deepest red. 
From violets their azure hue, 

So we call the bars and the fielded stars 

The Red, 

White, 

and Blue! 



PLAN TODAY 

There's naught upon Tomorrow's page. 

The scroll awaits your pen; 
Tomorrow is your heritage. 

And ne'er will come again. 

But if Tomorrow is to be 

A wondrous day and strong, 
Pray plan Today, and keep it free 

From everything save song. 



57 



THE GIRL WHO'S MISUNDERSTOOD 

The church folk sneer at the chorus girl, 

and call her a thing of shame, 
And they hem and haw in their holy awe 

at the very sound of her name; 
They are bound to state that the lady's fate 

was shaped by the devil's hand. 
So they pass her with a dread **0h, my!** 

for they just don't understand. 

The path they tread is a narrow one, and 

their world is a little place. 
For they judge a soul and its future goal 

by the smile of a pretty face; 
And it's their belief that a crowning grief 

and the pain of an aching heart, 
Do not belong to the girl of song who 

struggles from them apart. 

So the righteous world, with its heavy pride, 

strides haughtily on its way: 
It fears to go where the calciums glow, for 

what would the neighbors say.'^ 
So it turns its head, in its Christian dread, 

and pockets its helping hand; 
But 'twill ever be through eternity, for 

the world can't understand. 

58 



"ARGUED BY THE WORKIN' MAN" 

Sez Paddy Flynn t' me lasht noight, sez he : 
"Begobs, me bye, it's gettin' purty bad 
Whin wimmin folks, t' satisfy a fad. 
Air takin' jobs frim ye an' me, me lad; 

Sez Oi to ye, sez Oi, it shouldn't be." 

At thot Oi ups an' answers widout fear: 
"Indade, wid yez, me frind, Oi don't 

agree; 
Fer anny mon would not contented be 
Widout a gel t' run th' famalee; 

A maid," sez Oi, *'is born t' injineer." 



THE SOUL OF A FRIEND 

A little smile once in a while. 

The meaning clasp of a hand, 
A word of hope, as we onward grope 

Toward the shore of our wonderland; 
A bit of praise in our shadow-days, 

A song to our journey's end : 
Ah, this to me is life's symphony — 

And it's all in the soul of a friend! 



59 



I WONDER IF IT'S LOVE 

When a fellow thinks continually of a cer- 
tain charming girl. 

And carries in his watch case a little golden 
curl, 

If he quite forgets his breakfast, or departs 
without his tie, 

Or, perchance, should stare in vacancy and 
pass his friends right by, — 
I wonder if it's love. 

If he argues with his tailor 'bout the clothes 

that he should wear, 
And buys the best imported oils to grease 

his rumpled hair. 
If his view of politics is changed because of 

woman's rights, 
Or if he speaks respectfully to girls he 

thought were frights, — 
I wonder if it's love. 

If he wanders through a jewelry store and 

asks the price of rings. 
Explaining that his sister fancies all such 

foolish things. 



60 



If he starts to save his salary, looks at 

bargain real estate, 
If he claims that no good citizen should be 

a celibate, — 
I wonder if it's love. 



If he stands outside her window on a 
cold and blustry night, 

Just to see her shadow flick'ring on the 
shade against the light. 

If he reads the plays of Shakespeare, learn- 
ing phrases quite by heart. 

With the thought that he will speak one 
when from her he'll have to part, — 
I wonder if it's love. 



I am seeking imformation, for I'd like to 

know, you see. 
Whether all the things I've mentioned are 

as they should really be; 
Should I see a good physician, by his 

learned word abide. 
Or a recommended clergyman, — I really 

can't decide, — 
But I'm wondering if it's love. 



61 



THE YOUTH OF TOMORROW 

We're all of us children grown up, 
But gone is the gold of the buttercup 
That gilded our hair in our yesterdays, 
And gone is the sweetness of childhood's 
ways. 

Oh, why do we leave all the joy behind 
That could be so easily with age combined, 
The joy that we crave when our years 

unfold 
And leave but the spectre of Youth grown 

old. 



BETTER 'N NONE 

She had a pinkish bonnet, with a bunch o* 

flowers on it 
And a lot o' ribbon trailing from the back; 
But, alas! 'twas old from wearing, so the 

maiden, coy and daring. 
Took the trimmin's off and dyed the bonnet 

black. 



62 



THE COST 

He made his prayer to a dollar bill, 

(The most of us do, you know) 
He cared not a bit for the rook or rill. 
For the laughing brook or the friendly hill. 
Or the whisp'ring winds that blow. 

He grew as hard as his worshiped gold. 

His heart was a piece of stone; 
The prime of life found him bent and old. 
With features stem and with soul grown 
cold: 
He walked through the world alone. 

At last he realized the joy he'd lost. 
And writhed at the sneer of Fate; 

He searched for the flowers his greed had 
cost. 

He looked for love, but he found but frost: 
The awakening had come too late! 

SMILE YOUR WAY 

Sighs and frowns are not for you. 
Nor for anyone with work to do; 
Keep well within the bounds of cheer. 
And smile your way thruout the year. 

63 



FRIENDSHIP'S MEMORY 

It takes but a minute to say good-bye, 
But a mighty long time to forget. 

With many a heartache, many a sigh, 
And many a deep regret. 

So make ev'ry friendship so fine and fair. 
The essence of sweetest blends. 

That only its fragrance will fill the air 
O'er the roadway where memory wends. 



FIGHT ON! 

Never ask yourself the question: "Is my 
effort worth the while; 
Would it not be well to leave this task 
undone?" 
But remember strength is tested by an 
honest, fearless trial; 
And by effort goals are reached and 
battles won. 



64 



THE TRAIL 

I very often wonder 

What it's really all about, 
The longing, and the waiting. 

And the everlasting doubt, 
The thinking if we'll make it 

Much before we have to go: 
I very often wonder 

If the burning's worth the glow. 

I ask myself the question, 

Can Tomorrow's gain repay 
All the sorrow and the anguish 

That the struggle brings Today: 
Is it truly worth the eflFort, 

When we can't foresee the end, 
This chasing after sunbeams 

That with shadows ofttimes blend? 

But I find my answer nestling 

In the work I have to do. 
In this very self -same struggle, 

In the hope that's ever new: 
And my heart grows strong with courage. 

For I know that should I fail, 
I'll have sounded life's deep meaning. 

In my holding to the trail. 

65 



MORE WAYS THAN ONE 

Pat McDooin was a sailor whin he met 
swate Nora Naylor; 
It was thin he lost his head an' heart 
complete, 
But th* maiden wouldn't listen; said she 
niver would be his'n 
'Til he owned a rig'ler Trans-Atlantic 
fleet. 

"Phat's th' use o' gittin' married? I'd hev 
more fer havin' tarried, 
Sure, th' home Oi live in now is good 
enough." 
That's phat Nora towld her lover; thin he 
vowed by all above her 
That he'd hustle oop an' call her little 
bluff. 

Pat McDooin knew he niver could possess 
a fleet t' win her, 
So he formed a plan that listened good, 
withal; 
Whin her dad wint blue-fish selling, Patsy 
burned his swateheart's dwelling; 
Thin poor Nora hed no home at all, at all. 



Thin th' foxy Pat McDooin wid a vim pur- 
sued his wooin'. 
"You hed besht," sez he, "fergit about 
th' fleet." 
"Sure," sez Nora, "Oi must give in, fer Oi 
hev no place t' Hve in.'* 
So she moved t' Patsy's shanty oop th' 
street. 



THY MESSENGER—A FRIEND 

I've always known that friends are sent 
By God when we are sorely bent 

Beneath our sorrow's load; 
To urge us on by words of cheer, 
To give us strength where once was fear, 

To point the straightest road. 

So when our faith and hopes have flown. 
When naught springs from the work we've 
sown, 

And failure marks the end. 
Oh, God, then send some helping hand. 
Someone Thou knows will understand — 

Thy messenger — a friend. 



67 



THAT'S WHY HE'S AN AMERICAN 

An American never starts a thing 

That he doesn't finish right, 
And he's never content till the job is done, 

With never an oversight; 
When he says "I will!" he sets his jaw. 

And crushes his way clear through, 
And that's why he's an American, — 

He's learned to dare and do. 

He has learned that a task that's worth the 
while, 

Is worthy to be well done, 
And he isn't the sort to mutiny, 

When the victory's all but won; 
He isn 't the sort to hem-and-haw, 

And to pass the buck along, 
And that's why he's an American, — 

He's there at the final gong. 

He is there with a crashing, smashing punch, 
lie is there with a heart that's light, 

And whatever he tackles, rest assured, 
Will end in ix. finished fight; 

And there 's nothing on earth that '11 change 
his mind, 

08 



When he's in a fighting mood, 
And that's why he's an American, — 
He comes of a fighting brood. 

And whether the fight is his alone. 

Or the fight of a nation 's host, 
If the cause is just, he'll give his all, 

And there'll be no idle boast; 
He'll do and he'll give till the need shall 
cease, 

Till the right transcends the wrong. 
And thaV.s why he's an American, — 

And he 's a hundred-million strong ! 



MOTHER 

The world is a finer, better place. 
For the love that glows in your kindly face, 
For the smile that is constant, ever there, 
For your cheer that banishes dark despair 
For all that you are, for all you do, 
Ah, the world is better for knowing you, 
My Mother. 



69 



BE LOYAL TO YOUR THOUGHTS 

Be loyal to the thoughts that your heart 
holds dear. 
No matter what others may say; 
Just laugh at the world and the cynic's 
sneer. 
And earnestly go your way. 

For the world doesn't care for ideals, some- 
how. 
Nor for him whom ideals imbue, 
Yet will offer its hand and will make its 
bow 
To the man whose ideals come true. 

It cares not a mite should he lose or win. 
But says, with a knowing look: 

"I told you so!'* Then his name goes in 
Or out of the world's big book. 

So be loyal to the thoughts that your heart 
holds dear, 

A fig for the world, or less! 
Believe in yourself and you'll change its jeer 

To a smile and a sweet caress. 

70 



EACH PLAYS A PART 

Dreamers are needed to pierce the to- 
morrow, 
Idealists to visualize work to be done; 
Each has a purpose that all well might 
borrow — 
The purpose to point out the path to be 
run. 

Practical men have a like task before them, 
The task to make possible dreams and 
ideals. 
Theirs is the office to test and explore them: 
So all men, you see, are in Life's Balance- 
wheels. 



FAILURE 

What if you fail in the task at hand? 

Smile, carry on once more! 
Rally your forces, then, full-manned, 

Pull for another shore. 

Failure but spurs on the optimist. 

On to another goal. 
Points out the way, if he'll but persist; 

Failure gives strength to soul! 



71 



TRAMP PHILOSOPHY 

I say, pard! What's th' use o' worryin*? 
'Tain't no use, honest 'tain't. What's th' 
good o' goin' 'round a-lookin' black' an' 
cussful Hke, a-makin* everybody miserable? 
They's got t' give y' yer beans, anyhow; an' 
water's 'bout as plentiful as hard luck. 
Gowan out in th' park an' load up on fresh 
air; an' look at th' trees an' grass an' 
flowers; it's cheap an' it's 'ealthy. Watch 
th' river runnin' along peaceful an' quiet; 
jump in, if y' wanter; won't hurt th' river. 
Then come back again an' smile some — 
an' then some more. Gee, y' ain't got no 
idee 'ow easy 'tis till y've tried. An' that's 
gospel, too. 
I say, pard! What's th' use o' worryin'.?* 



EVERY DAY 

Every day has its quota of smiles. 

Every day has its laughter, 
Every day has its joy that beguiles 

And brightens the day that comes after. 



72 



SMILE 

You can capture the world with a smile, 
if you will, 
Where a grimace will turn it away. 
For a grip of the hand, 
Or a word that is bland. 
Has the strength of a dynamic sway. 

It*s a smile that the busy old world com- 
prehends, 
While a frown is a thing it detests; 
So you may as well do 
What the world asks of you. 
If you hope to deserve its bequests. 

LADY FAIR. 

(Triolet) 

In the clear summer air 

There's a name I am hearing : 
It is yours, lady fair. 
In the clear summer air. 
Ah, my heart's in despair 

With its music endearing. 
In the clear summer air 

There's a name I am hearing. 



73 



THERE'S AN AWFUL LOT O' HAP- 
PINESS AROUND 

When the Une of your horizon has a gloomy 
sort o' look, 
When the sky you thought was blue 
Has a blackish, angry hue. 
Find a quiet, peaceful woodland — hear the 
laughter of the brook: 
There's an awful lot o' happiness around. 

When your heart is mighty heavy with a 
sorrow you must bear. 
When the sunbeams' dancing light 
Fails to pierce your dreary night. 
Try to listen in the darkness for the song 
that's in the air: 
There's an awful lot o' happiness around. 

You will find it in the morning, at the very 
break of day. 
In the sun-lit afternoon, 
In the myst'ry of the moon; 
You can hear it in the treetops bidding all 
the world be gay: 
There's an awful lot o' happiness around. 

74 



Everyone has had a heartache, everyone 
has known grief. 
But I'm sure that after pain 
Joy has always come again. 
Just as sunshine follows rain: 
It is as our Lord intended, leastways that 
is my belief: 
There's an awful lot o' happiness around. 

Sound the depths of simple pleasure, learn 
the worth of being kind. 
Let your watchword be a smile. 
Do the things that seem worth while, 
Then your life will be a symphony, and 
you will surely find, 
There's an awful lot o' happiness around. 

IN MEMORY 

Every breath of the wind that blows. 
Every flake of the winter snows. 
Every twig of the pine that grows. 

Speaks to me of thee; 
In my heart, when the Day is gone. 
Through the years, be they drear or long, 
You will live, as the lilt of song, 

In my memory. 

75 



SCANDAL 

There's a vicious bit of scandal 
In the endless stretch of skies; 
Can you guess? 
All the stars are deeply conscious; 
It has dimmed their lust'rous eyes, 
They confess. 

It concerns — you won't divulge it? — 
Well, I'll tell you — Mr. Moon! 

Why, his children say he acted 
Like a foolish old buffoon. 

It's a shame a man so hoary 

Should be led by Bacchus' tune. 
Such a mess! 

It is said, quite unexpected, 

Mr. Moon sHpped out one night 
Joy to woo. 
Wrenched the Dipper from its fastenings. 
Toward the Milky Way took flight. 
No one knew. 

But he drank too much ambrosia 

In a neighborhood cafe. 
Where they took his Dipper from him 



76 



When he said he couldn't pay. 
Then they sent the Full Moon homeward 
Minus Dipper, in dismay. 
Sad, but true. 



BLARNEY 

Whin ye*re needin' a shmile or a wee bit 
o' blarney, 
T* banish th* cares of a storm-clouded 
day. 
Or a rift o' the sunshine that blesses Kil- 
larney, 
An' cheers every heart wid its warm 
Irish ray; 
Sure, I want y' t' know I'll be waitin* yer 
callin' — 
I'll answer yer voice t' th' world's furthest 
end, 
An' I'll be at yer side ere th' night shades 
have fallen 
T' bring y' a shmile wid th' twilight, old 
friend. 



77 



FRIENDS 

God took the fragrance of myriad flowers. 
The soul of the morning, the shade of the 

bowers, 
He plucked from the sunset the hue of its 

shading, 
The song from the brook, and the birds* 

serenading; 
God took the quiet and peace of the foun- 
tain, 
The truth of the hills and the strength of 

the mountain: 
He bound them in faith that will ne'er 

break nor perish. 
And gave them to us in the Friends that 

we cherish. 

WILL 

Will to live the life of a man, 
Will to lead, not follow, the van. 
Will the world to answer your call, 
Will the world to bring you its all ! 

Learn that Will can give all you crave, 
Make it serve you, make it your slave. 
Sense the thrill of deeds nobly done. 
Will to gain success — and 'tis won I 

78 



WORTH TRYING 

They say that hfe's a funny proposition, 
after all. 
Guess 'tiz! 
But what is gained by toasting it in bumpers 
full of gall? 
Gee whiz ! ! 
Go on your way rejoicing, smile a little 

now and then; 
You'll feel a whole lot better, and you'll 

find your fellowmen 
Will welcome you where'er you go — they'll 
ask you back again. 
Helps biz!!! 

WHOSE FAULT? 

The world is a bitter, noxious place, 
With never a spark or touch or trace 
Of anything good like a saving grace. 
It's a horrid old world of sin. 

But that is the world of him who rails, 
Who never will try, who always fails; 
The man who would follow Fortune's trails 
Must have hope and a smile to win. 



79 



BE A MAN 

It*s a mighty good thing, while you're run- 
ning life's race, 

Just to pause, as you go, and to come face 
to face 

With your conscience, and ask it a question 
or two; 

For it's right you should know what your 
life means to you. 

Have you done things worth while, have 

you drifted along, 
Have you filled it with sighs, have you 

filled it with song. 
Have you helped when you should, have 

you tried to do right. 
Have you struggled for good, or just 

fought on for might? 

Have you given your hand to some fellow 

in need, 
Have you sneered at the man who was not 

of your creed, 
Have you been open-hearted and ready 

to do. 
Have you tried to be just, have you tried to 

be true? 

80 



In your judgment of men, have you been 
always fair, 

Have you learned to forgive in the face of 
despair, 

Have you fought against greed, or suc- 
cumbed to its lust, 

Have you learned what it means to protect 
and to trust? 

Oh, it's easy to preach and it's easy to tell 
Of the other chap's faults — but our own 

faults, ah, well! 
We are cowards at times, and the truth, 

you will find. 
Is a thing we dislike, for it's rather unkind. 

But the Past, let it rest. Give a thought 

to To-day 
And To-morrow, as well, for the Time's 

growing gray; 
Do the things that you should, do the best 

that you can. 
Crown your life with your deeds — be a 

red-blooded man! 



81 



MARY DARLINT 

Mary McGuire, begorry, yer sire 

Should be mighty proud o' ye, darhnt, 

fer sure. 
Wid yer cheeks like th' roses, yer lips just 

as red, 
An' a smile on yer face that's like wine t' me 

head. 
*Tis no wonder I'm wishin' and longin' fer 

you. 
When I ought t' be earnin' a dollar or two, 
Mary, darlint. 

Mary, ye divil, why can't ye be civil.? 
Ye're breakin' me heart into wee little 

bits. 
Sure, I'm that brave an' fearless that one 

day, coleen, 
I'll be drownin' what's left o'meself in th* 

stream; 
Fer I'm growin' so t'in from th' pert t'ings 

ye've said, 
That I'm fearin* some mornin' I'll find me- 

self dead, 
Mary, darlint. 

82 



Mary McGuire, I'm that much on fire 
Wid love fer ye, sweetheart, I'm nearly 
consumed. 

But I'm tellin' ye true, if ye don't soon de- 
cide, 

Ye'll be dressin' in black 'stead o' bein' a 
bride. 

Sure an' what's that ye're sayin'? Ye'll 
marry me now? 

Praise th' hivens! I know'd I'd persuade 
y ' somehow, 

Mary, darlint. 



BE NOT IMPULSIVE 

Be not impulsive, think as you go, 
Weigh ev'ry move you make; 

Be not too hasty, better be slow: 
Vict'ry may be at stake. 

Pick out the task you know you can do. 

Summon your vital Will, 
Take Thought and Judgment, friends that 
are true, — 

Then to the Crested Hill ! 



83 



DREAMING 

I dreamed a dream in the twilight hours, 

Lulled by the wind of a summer night, 
That breathed a song through my dream- 
land bowers, 

Touched by the brush of a heav'nly sprite. 

Mellow the beams of the moon's soft 
light. 
Falling from out of the sky's deep hue: 

Ah, but my dreaming was sweet delight; 
Glad was my heart in its dream of you. 

The lazy waves broke in crested showers: 

Gems iridescent the drops were like. 
Which turned, 'twould seem, into myriad 
flowers — 

Tears of the sea that the stars made 
bright. 

Such is the fancy that dreams invite. 
Fanciful joys that may ne'er come true! 

Ah, but my dreaming was sweet delight; 
Glad was my heart in its dream of you. 

And mid the gold of the moon that towers 

Far in the north in its mellow might, 
I saw your smile. Ah, but God endowers 

84 



Souls such as yours with His own love- 
light. 

Wonderful smile of my yesternight! 
Why did you come but to say adieu? 

Ah, but my dreaming was sweet delight; 
Glad was my heart in its dream of you. 

Come to me. Love, when the day takes 
flight, 

Sit by my side until sleep shall woo: 
Ah, but my dreaming is sweet delight; 

Glad is my heart in its dream of you. 



AUTUMN 

Velvet shadows come and go. 

Drifting, whisp'ring breezes. 
Winged adieus that sadly blow, 

Wave the shadow friezes: 
Ghostly branches, bare of leaves. 

Gently bend in sorrow; 
Summer's parting kiss deceives — 

Winter comes tomorrow. 



85 



PLANS 

I don't know what I'm goin' t' be 

When I'm a great big man: 
They're makin' lots o' plans fer me. 

As families only can; 
An' each one has a different thing 

That I'm supposed t' do, 
But no one ever thinks t' ast: 

"Does that appeal t' you?" 

Now, dad, fer instance, thinks that I 

Should study law like him, 
An' fix up people's wills an' things, — 

But that's so tumble grim; 
While mother leans t' medicine. 

An' bandages an' ills. 
An' cuttin' legs from offern folks. 

An' castor-oil an' pills. 

M' grandma says I'll have t' be 

A clergyman. Guess not! 
T' dress m'self th' wrong side 'bout, 

An' look like some ink-spot; 
M' sister thinks I oughter learn 

T' sing in op-er-roar. 
An' grandpa says he got his start 

In Spivin's grocery store. 

86 



They go on plannin' day by day 

What they will do with me, 
But no one seems t* care a darn 

What I should like t' be, 
* Cause no one speaks o' firemen, 

Er police, er engineers, 
Er motormen, er generals, 

Er pirate buccaneers. 

But that's th' worst o' bein* small, 

With relatives galore: 
I'd take mos' anything fer mine. 

An' never ast fer more; 
But when Fm big an' know a lot, 

I'll never, never plan 
Fer any little growin' boy 

What wants t' be a man! 



OUR FLAG. 

It waves for you and it waves for me. 
In all its splendid majesty: 
This olden, golden flag that holds 
Our hearts and faith within its folds,— 
Long live the Stars and Stripes! 



87 



WHEN I AM WEARY 

Whenever I am weary 

And a few points under par, 
I close my desk and slip away 

And get my little car; 
I grease it and I oil it, 

And I tune it up a bit. 
For one of us must surely be 

In running trim and fit. 

I dust its ancient body. 

And I patch its ragged shoes. 
Then a bit of air inflation 

With my hand-pump I infuse: 
I give it gas aplenty. 

And a satisfying drink. 
And tie my kerchief round the door 

To stop its chronic clink. 

And then I look it over 

Very thoughtfully to see 
If all my lavish kindliness 

Has won its sympathy; 
I crank it very gently. 

And we bravely make a start, 
As I stethoscope the pounding 

Of its apoplectic heart. 

88 



But when we reach the country, 

Well, it seems we're both m tune. 
For I find myself a-humming. 

And the car joins with its croon; 
We're just like some old couple, 

Who have stolen far from home, 
To be alone with Nature 

And in daisy fields to roam. 

And then when all my drear has gone, 

And joy rests in its place. 
We turn about and make for home 

At just a jog-trot pace; 
And folks in Packards smile at us. 

As they go shooting by : 
But we have seen what they have missed- 

The blue of God's great sky ! 



ACCORDINGLY 

Think of To-morrow, not of To-day, 
Nor yet of the moments gone. 

And To-morrow will glow with the sunny ray 
Of Yesterday's blithesome song. 



89 



PATRIOTISM 

When war was new, we used to stand. 
And watch the trains go crawling by, 
All bound for some unknown ports. 
Where shadow-ships tugged oceanward, 
Impatient, perhaps, to take our boys 
To still unknown shores. 

And how we'd cheer, and wave our hats. 

As each long train of khaki passed. 

And how their voices answered us: 

A sob in ours, a smile in theirs ! 

And when they'd passed, we'd turn away, 

A damp-eyed little group. 

And now the trains go rolling on. 
To different cities by the way: 
But scarcely do we stop to glance 
At those bronzed faces, surly set; 
And no hand waves, in street or train. 
'Twould seem that no one cares ! 



90 



THE LEVELER 

What kindred interest we sense. 
In palpitating, eager throngs. 
That jostle in the crowded aisles. 

Of swaying cars; 
There — frank and friendly Poverty, 
And Plenty, disingenuous. 
Rub raiment democratically. 

In full accord. 

And no one questions social caste. 

Nor cares to know his neighbor's means. 

Nor yet the gross or fine intents, 

That charge his life; 
One golden, sympathetic bond, 
Entwines all hearts, and holds them close 
In common fellowship — because — 

They're going home! 

And so, I'm sure, 'twill also be. 
When tired travelers thread their way 
Among the stars that guard the Throne, 

On that Great Day; 
For naught but Love will find a place. 
In that long, weary caravan 
Of kings and peasantry — because — 

They're going home! 
91 



THE SERPENT 

In quiv'ring length, its seething coils 
Stretch limply and seductively. 
With passion in its trembling lines, 
As though 'twould rear, and wrap itself 
In crushing folds about the form 
Of Innocence. 

By day, the sunshine smiles on it, 
With fascinated reverence. 
Perhaps seeking favor in its eyes — 
Its eyes ! Green-monstered orbs that glint. 
And vihfy the sun by day, 
The moon by night. 

Where envy, greed, licentiousness, 
And cold brutality gleam forth. 
To sear whate'er their shafts may strike : 
For such as these, fair Decency 
Prostrates herself — and then becomes — 
A tainted Thing. 

Yet willing victims woo its fangs. 
Allured by lying promises, 
And hopes that never burst their buds; 
To be repaid with mocking sneers. 
To writhe within the jealous folds 
Of Broadway's coils ! 
92 



MY PIPE 

I guess I've never learned to know 
The subtle joys that come and go, 
And touch the senses with a thrill 
That seem our day-dreams to fulfill — 
The joys that float from a cigar. 
In wreaths of fragrant smoke afar. 

And though I've tried, I've never found 
The comforts that I've heard abound. 
Through paying court to that fair queen 
Of saffron color. Nicotine; 
Indeed, I've never sensed the bliss 
Of cigarette's sweet- venomed kiss. 

I've tried, I own, to cultivate 
Affection for this dual fate; 
But other men find something more 
Than I to praise and to adore; 
Perchance my taste is not yet "ripe," 
For my beloved is my old pipe. 

So there you have it ! Why deny. 
With drooping eyes and sorrowed sigh. 
The love I bear my ancient friend. 
Whose bowl contains the rarest blend 
Of Southland's balmy, sun-touched breeze, 
And melodies of bird-filled trees .^^ 

93 



Whose crusted fount is redolent 
Of romance of the Orient; 
Of trackless seas, and ice-clad lands. 
Of rocky shoals, and sanded strands; 
Of great blue eyes that smile at me. 
Through bluer smoke, bewitchingly. 

To you, whose fingers bear the stain, 
Whose twitching nerves cry out in pain, 
I dare not give my earthly share. 
But say instead an earnest prayer 
That you may some day know the spell. 
Which glows within a briar's well. 

BE BIG 

Put a sway in your words, a resolve in 
your thought, 
And a force in the things you do. 
And observe as you go that success easily 
bought 
Never sounds with a ring that's true. 

But a thought that is big and a word that 
is strong. 
And a deed that is free from guile. 
Seem to grow in our hearts like the memory 
of song. 
And they bring the success worth while. 

94 



ENNUI 

I had folded my papers, and placed them 
away, 
And was striving to stifle a yawn, 
For the air bore the drowse of a mid-summer 
day. 
With the scent of the freshly-cut lawn; 
When a knock at the door left my yawn in 
my throat. 
And I straightened myself hurriedly. 
As I cried out, "Come in!" in an impatient 
note; 
Then I glanced up, and there stood — 
Ennui. 

"You are welcome, my friend; have a com- 
fortable seat; 
May I ask what has prompted your call?" 
"It's the weather," he said, with a sniff at 
the heat. 
As he dropped in a chair, with a sprawl; 
"I delight to go visiting days such as these, 

For it seems I *fit in,' as it were — 
As the fragrance of clover fits into the 
breeze, 
W^hen its spirit the zephyrs would stir." 
95 



"You're poetic," I laughed. "It's inher- 
ent," he sighed, 
"Though I've wished many times it were 
not; 
It's a spell that comes on in the early spring- 
tide. 
But it's worse when the weather grows hot; 
Yet I'm welcome, 'twould seem, every place 
I may go. 
Though there's only one thing that I 
fear—" 
And he halted abruptly, and looked for the 
glow 
At the window, and whispered, "Still 
clear!" 

Well, we smoked, and we chatted, and toyed 
with the time, 
While the hours went tripping along. 
And the moments of lassitude, truly sublime. 

Were as music of narcotic song; 
For it seemed that my friend cast an indo- 
lent spell, 
Like a nebulous haze cross the sun. 
And I found myself wishing, it grieves me to 
tell. 
That its witchery would never be done. 
96 



Yet it's strange, as we talked, that I glanced 
at the pad 
I had thrown aside days before. 
With suggestions and notes so luxuriantly 
clad; 
Then I heard a low knock at the door. 
And I opened it quickly. "New Interest!" 
I cried, 
"How devoted to come such a day!" 
"Why, it's turning quite cool; great for 
work," he replied; 
Then we both saw Ennui slink away. 

YOUR BIRTHDAY 

I would garner the joys of the years that 
have passed 
Into one Perfect Day, if I could, 
And its music would be but the brook's 
laughing lilt, 
Its quiet the calm of the wood; 
And this wonderful day, with its sunshine 
and warmth, 
With its smiles and its flowers, its cheer, 
I would fashion for you, that the whole 
world might know 
'Tis your birthday, the sweet o' the year. 

97 



A MOCKERY 

They always met at the factory gate, 

When the toil of the day was done, 
When pallid workers would stumble forth. 

For a glimpse of the dying sun; 
And homeward then they would slowly go. 

With Love to lead the way, — 
A wizened, gaunt, though a hopeful Love, 

Of the litter of Underpay. 

And they planned, as lovers can only plan. 

For the day that their dreams invent. 
For the cosy house, with the crawling vines. 

And the joy-throbbing wonderment; 
Of singing birds, and a wealth of flow'rs. 

And each little longed-for need; 
They must have prayed, as they strolled 
along — 

Though the Lord doesn't always heed. 

But He joined the two with His sacred bond; 

Then the world took them both in hand : 
It looked them over, from tip to toe, 

And gave them to understand 



98 



That factory-gnomes, of the lathe and bench, 
Mustn't hope they could ever be 

Like other folk, who'd escaped the pinch. 
And the dolor of poverty. 

Then they learned that dreams are chimer- 
ical. 

For they found they could not afford 
The little house, with the blinds and things. 

And the garden and velvet sward; 
For they had to live in a tenement, 

(Heaven knows there's no romance therel) 
And they spent their days within factory 
walls, 

Their nights in a room more bare. 

Then Love grew tired, and finally died : 

There was nothing to give it hope. 
Nothing of color, but cheerless drab. 

In life's kaleidoscope; 
And at last they traveled their separate 
paths. 

But they both took the "easiest way": 
He to the gutter — she— God knows — 

The offspring of Underpay! 



99 



HUMANITY'S MARKET 

Give me a man who is not afraid 
To carry a pick, or a bar, or spade. 
To dig in a ditch in the swelt'ring sun. 
To stick to the last, till the job is done; 
Give me a man unafraid of work. 
No matter the brand — who will never shirk, 
A man who is deaf to the call of pride 
And blind to the grime of his hair and hide. 

Give me a man who will hold the road. 
Nor swerve from the path of the honor code. 
Who fashions his deeds as his heart decrees. 
Who cares more for worth than for pedi- 
grees; 
Give me a man who will fight for right 
Against the chimeras of tinseled might. 
Unfettered and free as a bird a-wing. 
Immune from the venom of envy's sting. 

Give me a man with a heart of gold. 
Give me a man with a courage bold. 
Who feels not the smart of the world's pet 

sneer. 
Reserved for the man it has cause to fear; 
Give me a man with a mellowed soul. 
Whose unerring goodness will win the goal, — 
Give me a man of our Lord's own kind: 
I'm bidding for men — but they're hard to 

find! 

100 



MINOR CHORDS 

I used to think that Hfe 

Was but a symphony of song. 
In my days of adolescence. 

Which to happiness belong. 
But I've learned that though a symphony 

It has its minor chords 
That are plaintive with the anguish 

Of the struggling earthly hordes. 

For beneath the filmy motif 

Runs a counter melody. 
In a strain that's all insistent 

With a somber harmony: 
Just as though the Great Composer 

Had intended we should know. 
All the changing shades of darkness. 

As well as sunlight's glow. 

And 'twould seem that life is brighter, 

That its song is sweeter still. 
When a deep-toned note of suffering 

For the moment seems to chill. 
For its echo bears the cadence 

Of a meaning strange and new. 
As it glorifies the memory 

Of the pleasures that we knew. 

101 



SEEDS OF LOVE 

We can make of life a garden plot, 

If we will only try. 
Full redolent with copious buds. 

And no discordant sigh; 
We can extirpate monotony 

From every toilsome day, 
If we'll only drop some seeds of love 

All along the way. 

We can give to work a meaning new. 

Regardless of the kind, 
By adding happiness to it. 

And trying hard to find 
The latent, palpitatiug rose. 

Beneath the somber gray. 
If we'll only drop some seeds of love 

All along the way. 

And the friends we make will come to be 

The scintillating gleams 
Of many suns, that give us warmth. 

Through their refulgent beams: 
That lead us forth, like flaming brands. 

In safety through the fray. 
If we'll only drop some seeds of love 

All along the way. 

102 



So let us make this life of ours 

A garden plot, full blown, 
Where we can sit among the blooms 

That we have carefully grown; 
And lo, the earth will rear itself 

In radiant array. 
If we'll only drop some seeds of love 

All along the way. 

MY FRIEND 

I think of you ofttimes, my friend. 
When sorrow's darkest clouds descend 

And drop their mantle over me; 

Ah, then in my extremity 
I bring my heart to you to mend. 

'Twould seem you somehow comprehend. 
When grief my inmost soul would rend; 
'Tis then I crave a word from thee, 

friend of mine. 

And when I sip life's sweetest blend. 
Of happiness and joy unkenned, 

1 think of you, and send a plea 
To God on high — a prayer that He 

May bless you, guard you till life's end, 
O friend of mine. 

103 



INSPIRATION 

I often find myself devoid 

Of golden thoughts to weave in verse. 

And search my sterile memory 

For some forgotten hidden gem — 

Some truant beam that once had played 

Across the screen. 

And then I hold the film itself 
Against the dimly-lighted Past, 
To pierce the age-dark shadowings 
That mock the ghostly flickering 
Of Recollection's wavering flame — 
But all in vain. 

With Failure's laughter in my ears 
I move about among the throngs 
In aimless wandering, to find 
Some living brand to shed its light. 
And to recall an incident 
Of Yesterday. 

And there, among the complex host. 
My Inspiration waits for me: 
In thin, pale faces, hung'ring eyes. 
And stagg'ring steps that go to meet 
Tomorrow's Dawn — all pulsing with 
Life's Poetry. 

104 



THE LONG, LONG TRIP 

When the big bell tolls for the long, long 
trip, 

And you pack your things away: 
Your harp and wings in your worn grip. 

With your clothes of angel-gray; 
When you say farewell to the sordid earth. 

To your friends so stanch and leal. 
When you turn your back on your home and 
hearth — 

How are you going to feel? 

Will you hearken back to the years gone by. 

With a feeling of content, 
With the thought that each sharp pain and 
sigh 

That you gave was never meant; 
Will those years of life be as pearls to you. 

On a necklace piu'e as gold. 
Will your heart be light when you seek the 
blue 

That Tomorrow's years enfold? 

Will your step be firm, will you wear a smile, 
When the stairway you ascend. 

And take the road to the Afterwhile, 
Which all lone travelers wend; 
105 



Will you feel secure at the Golden Gate 

When St. Peter asks to see 
The credentials that will decide your fate, 

And your residence to be? 

But you needn't fear, nor you needn't fret, 

When you hear the tolling bell, 
For there'll be no sound of a vain regret 

In its echoing farewell , 
If the life you leave has been filled with 
deeds, 

And if love was at your side : 
Then you'll reap the blooms of your well- 
sown seeds 

That your faith has sanctified. 

TACT 

If you'd like to pass a speeding chap, 

Or to reach a goal afar. 
It's a certainty you'll have to hitch 

Your wagon to a star; 
But another thing you'll have to do. 

In all that you transact, 
(And a most important thing it is) 

Is to use a little tact. 



106 



It's the eye, the ear, the taste, the smell. 

And the sense of touch, in one. 
For its golden threads, through all the five, 

Are interlaced and spun; 
And it has a vital part to do 

With the forming of each act. 
So it's well for everyone to learn 

To use a little tact. 

There are many times, I must admit. 

When it's hard to stop and think, 
But those are very dangerous times. 

For we're mighty near the brink; 
And it's then we have to bite our lips. 

To swallow and retract: 
Oh, you'll find it often pains a heap 

To use a little tact. 

But in truth, it's always worth your while, 

No matter what the cause, 
Just to give yourself a meaning shake. 

And to take a breathing pause; 
For it's putting dollars in your bank. 

While its good will retroact: 
So I humbly urge on everyone 

To use a little tact. 



107 



TWILIGHT 

When my weary day is over. 
And the scent of early clover 
Strokes the twilight's eerie shadows with its 
gentle perfumed hand, 
It is then my simple dwelling. 
With a love-light all excelling, 
Seems to have a different meaning in the 
evening's parting strand. 

It becomes a fairy bower. 
In this star-lit mystic hour, 
A lane of haunting mem'ry and a heaven, 
all in one. 
With its sweet of wakeful dreaming, 
And the song in treetops seeming 
To be fraught with all the wonder of a 
courting just begun. 

Then with love my arms enfold her, 
With a new-found joy I hold her. 
As we hearken to the rhapsody that fills the 
evening air. 
For I know that no Tomorrow 
Will be touched by poignant sorrow, 
While the scent of early clover is the fra- 
grance of her hair. 
108 



THE TRIANGLE 

We bow to one triumvirate. 

In all that we essay, 
A potent force triangular. 

That dissipates dismay; 
And well we know, if we may have 

The trio at our side, 
There's nothing we shall fear to do 

Throughout the great world wide. 

Our Common Sense must lead the three, 

For how can we succeed. 
If we are rash in all we do. 

And never stop to heed; 
If, when a plan presents itself, 

We act impulsively. 
Instead of letting Judgment 

Be the final referee? 

Then Industry will follow close. 

Its twin, Initiative, 
The foe of every random thought 

That's weak and negative; 
The force that makes the world go round, 

And cleaves the blazoned road. 
The force to which the god Success 

Indites his favored ode. 
109 



And last is Perseverance, 

The mill that's never still, 
That grinds our bullion constantly, 

Obedient to the Will; 
And with this trio, man can go 

Where'er his fancies soar, 
The sworn master of himself — 

His own true emperor. 



WE WONT BE BACK THIS WAY 

If there's any good that you'd like to do. 

You had better do it now. 
And not defer till the time's too late, 

As some folks will, somehow; 
You had better try, as you travel on. 

To help the world along. 
With a kindly thought of the other chap, 

And a note of blithesome song. 

It's a dangerous thing to procrastinate, 

For the days go quickly by. 
And we can't recall what has passed, you 
know. 

Though we sometimes vainly try; 



110 



So it's well to do what we know we should. 

When the spirit tells us to, 
Lest we meet the specter of "should have 
done," 

Ere we bid the world adieu. 

For there's not a thing that will pain as 
much 

As a kindness left undone. 
Nor a cheerful word that was left unsaid 

When a cloud-bank veiled the sun; 
For a deep remorse leaves a deeper wound. 

And a turgid, throbbing scar. 
That we can't efface from our memory. 

Though we journey long and far. 

But the path of life is a flowered trail 

To the soul that tries to aid. 
And it finds new courage to face the world 

With a spirit unafraid; 
It's a debt we owe to our kith and kin, 

A debt we should defray: 
So let's be kind, as we travel on. 

For we won't be back this way. 



Ill 



A ROSE TO THE LIVING 

If I could but touch the hearts of men 

Who have grown stern and cold, 
There's just one thing I should ask of them — 

To make their hearts unfold; 
And 'twould bring a joy to the soul of me 

Before my life should close. 
If they'd grave these words on their mem- 
ories : 

Don't withhold the rose. 

But it seems the world has a heavy pride 

That keeps it close to earth, 
That holds its interest in just itself, 

And dims another's worth; 
It seems to be such a jealous world. 

Of imperious, haughty pose, 
That I scarcely dare to implore of it: 

Don't withhold the rose. 

Not every one can be big and strong. 
Nor excel in the world's great work. 

But most of us do the best we can. 
And few of us try to shirk, 



112 



While the least of us need a kindly word, 

And all of us, heaven knows. 
Should heed the Voice, ere it be too late: 

Don't withhold the rose. 

Melt your heart with the rays of love : 

We're all of the Master's flock, 
And whether of wealth we've more or less 

Deserves no praise or mock; 
Give your hand when the need is felt, 

And let your arms enclose 
The timid form whose lips would plead : 

Don't withhold the rose. 



MY WELL 

I haven't any sylvan well, 

With sparkling water deep. 
Through which the sun's transmuted shafts 

Like arrows seem to leap; 
Nor any bucket, mossy crowned. 

And rich with poet's lore. 
To cast itself, in sportiveness. 

Upon the pebbled floor. 



113 



For these are not indigenous 

To prosy city life, 
Especially in apartment caves, 

Where modern things are rife; 
And yet I have a substitute. 

For well, and bucket, too. 
Which, though bereft of rural charm, 

Has proved a comrade true. 

In winter time, in summer time. 

It serves me faithfully, 
With persevering diligence. 

And friendly constancy; 
It is just a thermos bottle, 

But of all the wells that well 
I'd choose it from among the host, 

In virgin vale or dell. 

For when I wake from fevered sleep, 

It's resting at my side, 
A cooling fount of water clear. 

To willingly provide; 
And though the well may have a few 

Traditions, more or less, 
I'd rather have my vacuum flask 

Instead, I must confess. 



114 



HIS BIRTHDAY 

How sort o' wealthy-like and proud 

A fellow feels, and how 
The lines of worriment and care 

Drop lightly from his brow; 
How bygone years pack up their duds. 

And slyly steal away. 
Leaving him a boy again 

To celebrate his day — 
J 'ever notice? 

And what surprise he simulates. 

What pleasure paramount. 
When he receives the family gifts, 

(All charged to his account); 
And how he pouts, if they forget 

To give some little thing. 
On this, the only day of all. 

That father is the king. 
J'ever notice? 

And how he mentions casually 

To everyone he meets 
This day of days, and buys cigars 

For every chum he greets; 

115 



And how they always humor him 

By vowing he's as spry 
As any youngster twenty-one — 

And how he loves the lie! 
J 'ever notice? 

But if you tell a tiny fib 

In making someone glad, 
I rather think that Gabriel 

Will scratch it from his pad; 
For cheery words that thrill with joy. 

No matter what they be. 
Will ease our road — and help us all 

To grow old gracefully. 
J 'ever notice? 

THE GRUMBLERS 

Some men are always grumbling 

Because they don't succeed; 
They're charter members, every one. 

Of that great cult and creed 
That has no keen initiative 

Nor cares to forge ahead, 
But likes to sit and thunder growls. 

And scratch its ivory head. 



116 



They work by rote and office clock. 

And do the things they must. 
But if they're asked for something more, 

They think it most unjust; 
They have a sort of primal hate 

For members of the firm. 
Though when they meet them face to face. 

They bow, and scrape, and squirm. 

They always form in little cliques. 

And seem to stand apart. 
Instead of joining buoyantly, 

With willing, hopeful heart, 
In all that their employers do 

To help the business on. 
Their int'rest is tubercular. 

Their efforts weak and wan. 

And then they wonder why they fail. 

While others win the day; 
But if they'd study those who win. 

They'd quickly sense the way; 
They'd find it's just by working hard, 

And looking round for more. 
That little men grow into big. 

And pass through Fortune's door. 



11^ 



ADVICE 

When I was but a little boy. 

My grandad used to say: 
"Learn something that is useful, lad, 

Each hour of the day; 
And when your head is filled, you'll find. 

It's quite a simple plan, 
To fill your empty pocketbook, 

When you become a man." 

But Youth is proud Experiment, 

And Age, Experience: 
It's strange, they're always alien — 

A queer coincidence ! 
And so I failed to heed his words. 

As boys are wont to do; 
For I was young, and he was old. 

And life was rosy-hue. 

My little seat-mate, Billy Elm, 

Sure loved his thumb-marked books: 
He'd study them with earnest mien. 

And I, my fishing hooks; 
But when our graduation came, 

He led the honor roll, 
While I disported in the shade 

Of Huckin's swimming hole. 

118 



But grandad knew the way of life, 

I've learned since years have flown: 
He knew that youthful study forms 

Success's corner-stone; 
For now, at forty, I'm a clerk 

In Elm's Department Store, 
While Billy's worth a million, yes, 

And " Brads treet" says heaps more! 

MY PIANO 

There's an hour every evening, 

When heaven seems quite near. 
When the air is sweetly vocal, 

And when worries disappear: 
It is just as twilight changes 

To the majesty of night. 
While I sit at my piano 

In the graying evening light. 

Then the masters stand beside me 

And my fingers seem to guide 
To the haunts of lovely melody 

Where fairy sprites reside; 
And I scent the dewy fragrance 

Of a flowered dale or glen. 
Softly hidden in the vistas. 

Far removed from sight of men. 
119 



There with Rubinstein and Mozart, 

And with Verdi's shade I roam, 
With Rossini, Donizetti, 

In the ever-deep 'ning gloam: 
And I seem to know the passion 

Of the great Beethoven's art. 
And to analyze the meaning 

Of the world's pulsating heart. 

I am lost in all the grandeur 

Of their changing harmonies. 
In the throb of mighty oceans. 

In the song of wind-swept trees : 
In the ecstasy of lovers. 

And the agony of souls. 
In the beating of the waters 

On a lifetime's rocky shoals. 

And I learn life's truest lesson 

In the moments quickly gone: 
Thus I know that life is sweetest 

When the heart is filled with song, 
For my own is strangely happy 

In the moonlight's golden cheer. 
While I sit at my piano 

With the Master very near. 



120 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 

PAGE 

A little bit of sunshine 19 

A little dog's tail is a wonderful thing 54 

A little smile once in a while 59 

A man with a frown and a man with a smile 26 

A thought that is winged from a friend to a friend 52 

An American never starts a thing 68 

Be careful of moods; they are dang'rous things... . 49 

Before you send your letter, read it over 23 

Be loyal to the thoughts that your heart holds dear 70 

Be not impulsive, think as you go 83 

Bill was the clerk in the general store 38 

Do something good each passing day 15 

Dreamers are needed to pierce the tomorrow 71 

Every breath of the wind that blows 75 

Every day has its quota of smiles 72 

Give me a man who is not afraid 100 

Give me your hand when I need it most 53 

God took the fragrance of myriad flowers 78 

Happiness is yours to take 31 

He carried a book every place that he went 42 

He made his prayer to a dollar bill 63 

He's a little dog with a stubby tail 9 

Hey, there, fellows, come on in 51 

How sort o' wealthy -like and proud 115 

Hush-a-baby, close yo' eyes 47 

I don't know what I'm goin' t' be 86 

I dreamed a dream in the twilight hours 84 

I guess I've never learned to know 93 

I had folded my papers and put them away 95 

121 



PAGE 

I haven't any sylvan well 113 

I heard a voice 49 

I love the melody of rain 24 

I often find myself devoid 104 

I say, pard! What's th' use o' worrjdn'? 72 

I think of you ofttimes, my friend 103 

I used to live in a great big house of seventeen 

rooms or more 36 

I used to think that life 101 

I very often wonder 65 

I would garner the joys of the years that have 

passed 97 

If each loved heart were lost to me on earth. ... 50 

If I could but touch the hearts of men 112 

If there's any good that you'd like to do 110 

If you'd hke to pass a speeding chap 106 

If you meet the world with a heart that's light . . 27 

In quiv'ring length, its seething coils 92 

In the clear summer air 73 

Isn't it funny how love comes along 14 

It matters not what your work may be 55 

It takes but a minute to say good-bye 64 

It waves for you and it waves for me 87 

It's a mighty good thing, while you're running 

life's race 80 

It's a shame to be ill and confined to your bed 16 

It's strange that the songs that we hear today 22 

I've a little room where I live alone 31 

I've always known that friends are sent 67 

I've got th' finest uncle 28 

"Let's go a-fishin', Mary" 46 

122 



PAGE 

Mary MacGuire, begorry, yer sire 82 

"Mother, may I get in the swim?" 13 

Never ask yourself the question: "Is my eflPort 

worth the while" 64 

No day so quickly passes 17 

Oh, it's great to be able to go where you will .... 18 

One summer night, while I wandered alone 25 

Pat McDooin was a sailor whin he met swate Nora 

Naylor 66 

Put a sway in your words, a resolve in your thought 94 

Sez Paddy Flynn t' me lasht noight 59 

She had a pinkish bonnet, with a bunch o' flowers 

on it 62 

She isn't a car with a pedigree 11 

Sighs and frowns are not for you 63 

Some folks'U al'ays git along 10 

Some men are always grumbling 116 

Sometime I git in a thoughtful mood 44 

Start the year with a word of cheer 30 

Th' goin's hard when you're down an' out 34 

That's what I always want you to be 35 

The church folk sneer at the chorus girl 58 

The world hasn't time for the gelatme-spined 33 

The world is a bitter, noxious place 79 

The world is a finer, better place 69 

The world takes a man at his own valuation 55 

There is something fine in the world for you 48 

There's a heap o' satisfaction in the clasp of some 

friend's hand 17 

There's a place for you in the world, my lad 37 

There's a vicious bit of scandal 76 

There's an hour every evening 119 

123 



PAGE 

There's naught upon Tomorrow's page 57 

They always met at the factory gate 98 

They say that life's a funny proposition, after all 79 

Think of Tomorrow, not of Today 89 

This criticized world is a pretty good place 32 

Turn your face to the Eastward, and look to the 

rising sun 56 

'Twas God Who took from heaven's dome 57 

Two starry eyes look into mine 33 

Velvet shadows come and go 85 

Very often when you think a thought, you haven't 

thunk a thing 50 

We bow to one triumvirate 109 

We can make of life a garden plot 102 

We're all of us children grown up 62 

WTiat if you fail in the task at hand? 71 

What kindred interest we sense 91 

When a fellow thinks continually of a certain 

charming girl 60 

When I was but a little boy 118 

When my weary day is over 108 

When the big bell tolls for the long, long trip .... 105 

When the line of your horizon has a gloomy sort 

o'look 74 

"Where are you going, my pretty maid?" 13 

When war was new, we used to stand 90 

Whenever I am weary 88 

Whin ye're needin' a shmile or a wee bit o' blarney 77 

Will to live the life of a man 78 

Work while you work, with all your heart 24 

You'll find the marines where'er you go 20 

You can capture the world with a smile 73 

124 



INDEX OF TITLES 

PAGE 

Accordingly 89 

Advice 118 

"Argued by the Workin' Man" 59 

Autumn 85 

Baby 33 

Be a Man 80 

Be Big 94 

Be Loyal to Your Thoughts 70 

Be Not Impulsive 83 

Betsy 11 

Better'n None 62 

Birth of Old Glory, The 57 

Bit o' Heaven, A 19 

Blarney 77 

Bright Things of Life. The 52 

Bum 9 

Commencement Day 13 

Cost, The 63 

Dreaming 84 

Dreams 48 

Each Plays a Part 71 

Encouragement 17 

Ennui 95 

Every Day 72 

Everyone Does It 36 

Failure 71 

Fight On! 64 

"Fishin"' 46 

Friend o' Mine 7 



125 



PAGE 

Friends 78 

Friendship's Memory 64 

Girl Who's Misunderstood, The 68 

Glory of Failure, The 50 

Go t' Sleep, Honey 47 

Goin's Hard, Th' 34 

Grumblers, The 116 

Happiness 31 

His Birthday 115 

How to Live 53 

Humanity's Market 100 

I Wonder If It's Love 60 

If 27 

In Memory 75 

Inspiration 104 

It's a Good Old World 32 

Just a Minute, Please 23 

Just Dad 35 

Lady Fair 73 

Learn to Smile by the Way 26 

Leveler, The 91 

Life's Boomerang 15 

Life's Room 31 

Long, Long Trip 105 

Man's Creed 56 

Mary Darlint 82 

Me an' Jim 44 

Minor Chords 101 

Mockery, A 98 

Moods 49 

More Ways Than One 66 

126 



PAGE 

Mother 69 

My Friend 103 

My Piano 119 

My Pipe 93 

My Star 25 

My Well 113 

Ne'er-Do- Well, The 38 

Niche, The 37 

Olden Melodies 22 

Our Flag 87 

Patriotism 90 

Persuasion 51 

Plan Today 57 

Plans 86 

Positive — Negative 33 

Prayer, A 17 

Rain 24 

Reason, The 10 

Rose to the Living, A 112 

Scandal 76 

Seeds of Love 102 

Serpent, The 92 

Smile 73 

SmUe Your Way 63 

Soul of a Friend, The 59 

Strength of Youth, The 49 

Sun-Crested Hill, The 18 

Tact 106 

Tail of a Dog, The 54 

That's Why He's an American 68 

There's an Awful Lot o' Happiness Around 74 

127 



PAGE 

Thy Messenger — A Friend 67 

Thunk, A 50 

To the Convalescent 16 

Trail, The 65 

Tramp Philosophy 72 

Triangle, The 109 

Try 55 

Twilight 108 

Uncle 28 

U. S. Marines, The 20 

Vaulting Sunbeams 42 

Way It's Done, The 13 

We Won't Be Back This Way 110 

When I am Weary 88 

When Love Comes Along 14 

Whose Fault? 79 

Will 78 

Work and Play 24 

Worth Trying 79 

Year of Years, The 30 

Your Birthday 97 

Your Worth 55 

Youth of Tomorrow, The 62 



128 



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